


It's Always Been You

by AndrastesChosen



Category: GOT7
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Jackson is an adorable dumbass, Jackson x Reader, Tell me it wouldn't be hard to tell Jackson's real flirting and friend flirting apart in real life, Tiny bit of Angst, reader is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 17:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrastesChosen/pseuds/AndrastesChosen
Summary: You're such a cliche, falling in love with your best friend. But you've come to terms with the fact that friends were all you'd ever be. Or so you thought.





	It's Always Been You

You ring the doorbell next to the familiar white door of the home you grew up in, giggling as you hear people inside screaming about the sound.

“Hey, I look okay?” 

Turning to the man next to you, you scoff playfully. 

“You always look good, and you know it. Who are you trying to impress?” 

“Your Mom, obviously. She’s the love of my life.” 

"I’d ask if that was a ‘Your Mom’ joke, but frankly, I’m afraid that it’s not.” 

“It might be worth it to hear you call me ‘Daddy.” Jackson chuckled, wrapping a hand around your waist to pull you tighter against his side as said Mother answered the door. 

“Oh, you’re finally here! And you brought your other half, good. Hello darling.” 

“Happy birthday, Mom. These are for you,” Jackson grinned at her brightly, presenting her with the carnation bouquet that had made you late, as he’d spent half an hour deciding on what he wanted to get. 

You couldn’t remember when he’d started calling her Mom, but yeah, that was a thing. Your Mother ate it up, cooing and patting his cheeks as she escorted the two of you inside the house. 

With a much-practiced rhythm, Jackson took off his coat before helping you with yours, walking over to the hallway closet himself to put them up. He came back over to grab your shoes along with his, lining them up with the giant pile near the door. With a final grin at you, he strode towards the sliding glass door shouting some sort of battle cry that sounded like a garbled version of Tarzan and Pee Wee Herman. The answering shrieks of ten children screaming, “UNCLE JACKSON,” alerted you to the fact that this was an expected sound for his fan club, aka your nieces and nephews. 

You joined the group of people that were lounging around the dining room table eating snacks and talking. You listen to their chatter without really paying attention, your focus instead on the view outside where Jackson was playing with the kids. He had one of your nieces on his shoulders, and it quickly became apparent that he was a knight protecting the princess from the invaders. He’d occasionally glance towards the door to catch your eye and grin before going back to his game. It scared you sometimes how seamlessly he fit in with your family. He’d been around for so long that everyone considered him a part of it, a package deal with you. 

“You need to hurry up and give him some kids of his own. He’s so good with them. And you’re not getting any younger,” Your Mother teases as she stands next to you to watch them as well. 

“Mom,” you groan, annoyed. You swear she pretends to be clueless on purpose. “Can you stop talking like we’re an old married couple? We’re not even dating. It’s not like that, and you know it.” 

And therein lay the source of all your problems. Because Jackson Wang was only your best friend and had been since preschool. And you were so in love with him. 

“You can tell me it’s not like that all you want. I know what I see,” she hums with a little smirk before going calling everyone inside to start dinner. 

Jackson strolls in behind the kids, beaming once he sees you and takes the open seat next to you. Before you can do it yourself, he grabs your plate and starts filling it up, making extra careful to not let the food touch and pick out any onions. Once he starts piling on broccoli, you decide it’s time to take a stand. 

“Jackson!” you whine softly, knowing exactly what he’s going to say, but you figured it was worth it to at least attempt to avoid the horrible little things. “No broccoli. Please?” 

“Sorry, buttercup. Green things twice a week at least, that’s your rule. I know for a fact all you’ve had this week was bell peppers in your Philly cheesesteak.” 

You pout dramatically, staring at the pile of four broccoli tainting your plate. “But they are satan’s vegetable. Why this betrayal?” 

Jackson chuckles, putting the plate in front of you then starting on his own. “Babe, I do this so we’ll live long and healthy lives. We should be able to die together like Noah and Allie at this rate.” 

“That’s so morbid,” you grumble as he playfully glares at you, not looking away until you force a bite past your lips and chew. 

“Good girl,” he coos, patting your head then focusing on his own food. 

A snort has you looking over at your Mother, who is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow. You glare as much as one dares to glare at their own mother, hoping she understands to keep quiet. She merely smirks and goes back to talking to one of your aunts. 

As you eat, you pay attention to the various family members talking to Jackson. He was so open and familiar with everyone, asking about their kids and pets, holidays, even asking an Uncle how he was feeling after a round of the flu that you had known nothing about. What was difficult was hearing them all call him family titles. Son, nephew, grandson, even a cheeky son-in-law from your Dad. All you could think about was how awkward and painful for you it was going to be once he started seriously dating, and you had to listen to everyone ask about where Jackson was. 

After the meal, everyone gathered in the living room for cake and to watch your Mom open her presents. There were only so many spaces available, and it was slowly becoming evident you were going to have to sit on the floor. 

“Babe, come ‘ere,” Jackson called from his very comfortable looking seat on the left end of the couch. You squint at him with exaggerated irritation. Surely he’s not expecting you to sit at his feet like a dog or something? 

Still, you go to him anyway, the desire to do whatever he wants you to ingrained in you at this point. When you reach him, you quirk an eyebrow at his amused smirk, wondering what he’s up to. He grabs you by the hips and plops your squawking, flailing body right on his lap. He scoots back until he’s lounging against the very back of the couch, wrapping his right arm around your waist to keep you close to his chest. 

“There, isn’t that comfy? No floor for the pouting princess,” he chuckles, reaching over to grab a forkful of cake from the end table next to him, bringing it to your lips instead of his like you’d assumed. 

You accept the bite, focusing on chewing to keep your mind off the fact that your face must be bright crimson, you were so embarrassed. But not enough to leave. It’s not like sitting in Jackson’s lap was something new to you. He pulled this stunt all the time, but at least it had always been when it was just the two of you, not in front of at least thirty family members.

When you realized no one was paying much attention or making any teasing remarks, you allowed yourself to finally relax. You melted into Jackson’s arms, letting your head fall back into the strong shoulder behind you. Jackson nuzzled into your shoulder, making a pleased little rumble and lacing your right hands together where they laid against your stomach. He continued alternating bites of the cake between the two of you while you both made commentary on your Mother’s gifts. You had gotten her a new set of paints that she had not so subtly been hinting about for weeks. You had no idea what he had gotten her. 

“Oh, Jackson honey. This is...” she brought her hand to her lips, her eyes suspiciously watery. She sees you trying to peek, so with a wobbling smirk, she flips it around, allowing everyone to get a good look. 

The picture frame itself is gorgeous, decorated with Mother-Of-Pearl and crystal. Once you get an eyeful of the picture, however, you know why your Mother looks near to tears. It’s a picture of you and Jackson. The first picture, actually.

 You remember how he had claimed you as his friend the very first day of class, pulling your crying and scared little self into a game of house. You’d played husband and wife, but he kept cooking and cleaning, saying the wife deserved some time off sometimes too, no doubt merely repeating something he’d heard many times before. You’d never met a boy as nice as him before and didn’t mind playing with him. Once the class had ended, and the parents showed up, he’d begged his Mom to take a picture of him and his “best friend,” nevermind that you’d just met that day. And there it was, blown up in a huge beautiful frame, little faces smushed together in a tight hug and smiling brightly. It almost made you want to join your Mom and cry a little. 

“My Mom found it a while ago because I’d been asking for it. I thought you might like a copy of it for the grandkids to see someday,” he explained, swaying you a little in his lap. 

Your Mom cooed, promptly ignoring the rest of the presents to find a spot on the wall for it. God, it was like Jackson was purposely trying to give your family hope that you would be something more than friends. 

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur as you’d lost yourself in your mind. Jackson had never once let you leave his lap or tell you to get up so he could move, so eventually, you began to doze off with your head cradled in the crook of his neck. A few times you felt him play with your hair. Once you swore you felt the brush of his lips against your neck, but that surely had to be your tired mind playing games with you. 

Once the rest of the family was gone, you felt Jackson gently trying to wake you up. 

“Looks like someone is ready for bed. You two are staying here tonight, right?” Your Mom asked as she was collecting dishes. 

Jackson nodded as he helped you off of his lap, keeping an arm around your waist as you tried to wake up a little more. 

“Yeah. We wanted to hit up the diner on our way back to the city tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good. You guys know where everything is. I made sure to put fresh sheets in Y/N’s room, so you guys will be plenty comfy. Have a good night, my dears.” 

Jackson helped you up the stairs with his hands on your hips. The touch practically burned as you envisioned other scenarios where his fingers would dig into your hips like this. You shake your head, using exhaustion as an excuse for your mind heading in that direction. 

He herds you into the bathroom, claiming ‘ladies first,’ only coming back once he heard the shower door close to place some pajamas on the counter for you. After a short shower, you dressed and brushed your teeth on autopilot before heading to your room. Jackson grabbed his own pajamas, that looked suspiciously like nothing but boxers, and placed a kiss on your forehead on his way out of the room. 

You melt into the worn purple bedsheets, still tired but a little more awake than before. You take a moment to observe your old room, amazed as always at how easy it would be to say it’s more like yours and Jackson’s. He’s been a part of your life for so long that for every item in here of yours, there’s a piece of him too. Stuffies he won you, a skateboard from that one summer he tried to be a skater boy but got bored with it, measuring lines on the walls so the two of you could compare heights, drawings he’d made you, pictures  _everywhere_. He even had two drawers in your dresser and half of your closet for his clothes. 

Emotion slowly thickened in your throat, and you felt your eyes tearing up. As a single one trailed down, tickling at your nose, you wondered, how much longer could you keep this up? 

The two of you were getting older, nearing the age when thinking about settling down wasn’t such a foreign concept. And Jackson was practically  _born_ to be a fantastic husband and Father. Eventually, he was going to find the love of his life, and you would have to melt into the background. He’d dated a few times in the past, but it had never been very serious or lasted very long. But someday. Someday you would have to try to move on yourself, try to learn how to live without the man that’s been your person since you were four. He’d get married and have kids, speak to you maybe once every six months if you were lucky. 

You were pulled from your morose thoughts when the bed dipped next to you, and Jackson molded himself against your back, wrapping his left arm around your waist and pulling you into him. He smelled terrific, as usual, since your Mom kept his favorite soap stocked in the supply closet for him. More importantly, you could feel his body heat through your thin pajamas thanks to the fact that he was indeed only wearing boxers. 

He hummed contentedly as he cuddles you close, nuzzling against your neck and stroking your waist. 

“Love you. Night,” he mumbled, yawning loudly as he settled in. 

And you couldn’t take it anymore, because he  _didn’t_ love you. Not the way you wanted. 

“Why do you do that? Why do you act like it’s real? Why do you let  _them_ do that?” You whisper, your voice trembling with your effort to keep your tears at bay. 

“Hmmm, do what babe?” Jackson answers sleepily. 

“That! Call me babe. Cuddle and kiss me. Let my family call you my boyfriend and treat you like you’re going to be a part of it? Do you just think it’s funny or something?”

Jackson leans up a little, tugging you to lay on your back. He’s furrowing his brow, scanning your face with worried eyes. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just...I know you’re the friendliest person on the planet and cuddling everyone is no big deal, but we need to cool it. I had three cousins tell me I had a great boyfriend today, and if my own family thinks that, what would happen if I tried to meet someone?” 

“Meet someone? What the hell do you mean, meet someone?” Jackson was fully sitting up now, glaring down at you in confusion. 

“I mean date. I know it’s been a few years since I’ve tried, since we both have tried actually, but maybe it’s time. We’re getting too comfortable together.” 

“I am so confused right now. Are you trying to break up with me?”

Your jaw dropped as you finally really looked at him, taking in the gloominess in his eyes. “What?” 

“It sounds like you’re telling me you want to date other people. I gotta say, I don’t share, and I’m not giving you up without a fight.” 

You were becoming incredibly confused yourself. “Wait, did you...you think we’re dating?” 

“Um, yeah? We’ve  _been_ dating? For like, two years now? Where have you been?” Jackson quirked an eyebrow before gasping dramatically and grabbing your cheeks. “Oh my God, are you a time traveler? Are you Y/N from the past?”

“Okay, now  _I’m_  confused.” 

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know we were dating? I cuddle you all the time, I take you on dates, I buy you anniversary gifts and chocolates on valentines day.” Jackson threw his hands up in the air in frustration. 

“Okay, in my defense, you cuddle and kiss everyone. You let my sister feel up your abs. Just a couple hours ago you kissed my Mom. I can never tell the difference between flirty Jackson and friendly Jackson.” 

“On the cheek, you perv. I’ve never made out with your Mom like I have with you, sweetheart.” 

“Made out? Wait, you remember? I thought you were drunk!” 

“Of course I remember. Bam Bam’s graduation party two years ago. I didn’t drink anything except juice the whole night because I was on a detox cleanse. So, when you and I were making out by the pool, I was very much sober.” 

Bam Bam’s party has been one of your favorite memories. Jackson had dragged you to it and had been kind enough to not leave your side except to get more to drink. You’d ever thought to check what he was drinking. He’d been acting so strange though, more cuddly and handsy than usual, that you’d assumed he was drunk. When he led you out to the pool and caressed your face before leaning over and kissing you, you’d been over the moon. Kissing Jackson was like coming home. It had felt so right and so  _good_. The two of you had probably kissed for a full half hour before he walked you home, leaving you at your door with a quick  _‘love ya’_ and a peck on the forehead. The kiss had never been brought up again, even though you thought about it often. 

“You said we’ve been dating for two years, so since that party?” 

“Of course. You think I’d kiss you like that and not mean anything by it? What the hell, Y/N.” 

“You never said  _anything_! I thought you were drunk and forgot, so I never said anything. You just kept acting the same. What boyfriend dates someone for two years and never tries for sex?” 

“I thought we were just a really chill couple and waiting for marriage or something because it’s  _us_ and we wanted it to be special. Why do you think I go to the bathroom so much with you around?” 

You just stare at Jackson in disbelief. You just have so many emotions and can’t make sense of anything right. You’re in equal parts awed that this means that Jackson returns your feelings, and astounded that the man you want to spend your life with does things like date you for two years without letting you know. 

“I...can't even with you right now.” 

You turn back onto your side as you give your mind some time to process everything. Little things here and there were starting to make sense. You  _had_ been thinking he’d been spending even more time with you than usual. And there was the increase in pet names, the sudden dry spell on his side, the fact that he’d been getting more touchy with you. The weird gifts he kept calling anniversary gifts made sense now too. You’d just thought you’d forgotten something from when you were kids, but you’d never asked because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“Baby?” Jackson whispered as he turned you towards him so you were face to face, moving slowly like he was dealing with a spooked horse. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I thought because it’s  _us_ , you’d know. I’m sorry, I was dumb. Please, forgive me. I love you, I really do. I don’t want you to date anyone else, just me. When we go to the diner tomorrow, it can be a date. You can wear the cute red polka dot dress, and I’ll be the perfect gentleman and  _ask_ you to be my girlfriend.”

You try to fight off a smile because he’s  _so cute_. As if you’d turn down a date with him. “Fine. It’s a date. A real date that I actually know I’m going on.” 

“Forgive me?” He murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. 

You snort. “When have I not? Seriously though, this is probably the dumbest thing we’ve done yet, and we’ve done some stupid stuff. I can’t believe you thought we were dating for two whole years while I’ve been sitting here pining.” 

Jackson practically purrs as he smirks. “Pining? You were pining for me, sweetheart? I’m flattered.” 

You huff, trying to push one of the tree trunks he calls arms off your waist. “Shut up. Get off me.” 

“Never,” Jackson yells dramatically, instead throwing his legs over you too, like a muscley koala. 

“Do you love me?” He finally whispers after a few minutes of silence. 

“Yes.  _God_ , Jackson. So much.” He coos and reaches up to wipe a tear that you hadn’t even know escaped, before placing a kiss on your lips. So light and so quick it should barely count, but it sent electricity zipping through your body all the same. 

“Just so you’re aware since apparently we suck at communication in this relationship, we are  _not_ waiting for marriage.” You whisper softly, glad that the darkness of the room hides your blushing cheeks. 

“Oh?” Jackson drawls with a deepened voice, his arms tightening around you. 

“I’ll give you three dates, and then I expect you to show me what I’ve been missing out on.” 

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He growls softly in your ear, making you regret waiting even the three dates. But if he was being serious about dating you, then you wanted the full experience. 

With a final kiss on your forehead, the two of you relax into each other, sleeping with your head on his chest and the rest of your limbs tangled as close as they could be. 

* * *

“Kids sleep well? Want some breakfast?”

Your Mom stops you at the bottom of the stairs, grinning as Jackson led you down with your hands laced tightly. She glanced between the hands, your crimson face and shy smile, to Jackson’s beaming even more than usual countenance. Her quickly hidden smirk your way lets you know the cat’s out of the bag without you even having to say anything. But you  _wanted_ to say something. You wanted to let the  _whole world_  know. 

“Slept well. Thanks for letting us crash here. We have to get going though because my  _boyfriend_ is treating me to pancakes.” 

Jackson smiled happily down at you as he helped you into your jacket.

“You bet I am. You can even get the blueberry ones. Nothing but the best for my  _girlfriend_.” 

Your Mom patted Jackson on the cheek before leaning in for a hug with you and whispering in your ear. 

“Congratulations, sweetie. I’m happy for you. He’s one of the good ones.” 

You glance at the door where he’s waiting for you, holding his hand out and looking brighter than you’d ever seen him. You couldn’t wait to spend your life loving him.

“No, Mom. He’s the best one.” 


End file.
